


Five.

by sixtieshairdo



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: I should write more about Sonny in a robe, M/M, Will admires Sonny, because like Will that robe does things to me, but he fails to realize that he's pretty awesome himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtieshairdo/pseuds/sixtieshairdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five random (and slightly disjointed) moments between Will and Sonny. </p><p>Will's POV because I like thinking of Sonny through his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five.

You are skin tight jeans and smooth skin over lean muscles. You are blinding smile and long fingers wrapped around my wrists when you want to take care of me. You are sighs and whispers when we are inseparable from tangled limbs and rumpled sheets. You are philosophical words and cheesy songs and you don't stop even when I say pretty please with no clothes on. You are the perfectionist who is always late because I say "five more minutes" over and over because I never want to let you go.  You are the balloon string that keeps me afloat when the world tries to drown me.

 

You are Sonny, and appropriately so; like a star, like fire, like a god.

 

...

 

"You did _what_?"

 

"I punched him. I'm so sorry, I just. I couldn't control myself."

 

"You punched him? Sonny, why?"

 

"Fuck, I am sorry, Will. He wanted to confront you and I didn't want him to do that --"

 

"So you _punched_ him?"

 

"No! He called me a faggot! And that was the last straw, I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to."

 

"Sonny, this could give him more reason to stop me from being a part of my child's life!"

 

"He has no proof! Will, listen, I am sorry. But there's no way in hell that he would use this against you. He has no evidence, alright?"

 

"I can't take anymore chances. I can't, Sonny. I--I'm sorry I freaked out on you like that."

 

"It'll be okay, alright? We'll figure something out."

 

"You promise?"

 

"I promise."

 

"(I'm sorry he called you a faggot.)"

 

"(It's alright, Will.)"

 

...

 

You are breath-taking; my heart races when I see you at my door, a bag pack slung casually over one shoulder, a hand in one jeans pocket, looking like you stepped out of a magazine. My shirt has coffee stains and my pants are worn out but the way you look at me makes me feel like a million bucks. (Later, after you've effortlessly drawn out every impossible drugged sound out of me, you laugh and say, "what does a million bucks look like anyway?" and I shrug, out of words at the sight of your smile.)

 

Sometimes I feel so young, so inexperienced, so weak when things fall apart around me. You somehow know exactly what to say to make it better, to make me hold my head up higher and speak a little louder, to ask what I want, and to have a chance of actually getting it. These moments make me realize how much I've learnt from you, and how little I could offer you. You are an eagle; sharp and magnificent and free. I worry that I am the metal links that hold you down to the ground when you should be flying over trees and into the clouds.

 

I see boys and men blatantly check you out when we are together. (Girls and women look at you too, but in a different way which somehow doesn't make me insecure.) Your hand is slipped into mine and your eyes graze over my face like I am the only person in the world. I am warm all over, and suddenly, it doesn't matter how many people are looking at you, because your eyes are only on _me_.

 

When I confide in you about this teeny insecurity of mine, you are genuinely surprised, but then you say "I guess that's fair, given the number of customers I have who keep asking me for your number", and it's my turn to draw a blank. You playfully elbow me in the ribs and roll your eyes: "we've done this before, Will. You can't possibly _not_ realize how insanely hot you are."

 

It appears that I actually can.

 

And it's okay because, so can you.

 

...

 

"Mmmph, baby, I _really_ have to go."

 

"Five more minutes."

 

"Will, oh God...please... _fuck_."

 

"That's the idea."

 

"But I -- oh yes, _please_ , hnngh."

 

"Mmm. You like that?"

 

"Y--yeah. Oh! _Yes_ , oh please, yes."

 

"Should I stop? Tell me."

 

"F--five more minutes."

 

I grin at the dazed look in your eyes before I suck on your tongue as my hand pumps your already leaking cock harder, faster.

 

You're going to be late today.

 

Serves you right for wearing that damn robe _again_.

 

...

 

I am a different person now that I have you in my life.

 

I am still insecure, though lesser than before. I am still self-destructive, though calmer than before. I am still tactless with my mom, though kinder than before. I am still scared of what Nick might do next, but I am braver than before.

 

I am a version of my old Self, a better person because of you.

 

(You trace a secret into my skin and whisper "that's how _I_ feel about _you_ , stupid".

 

You press your forehead against mine, your hand over my chest, and I start to believe that, yes, _we_ are better people because of _each other_.)


End file.
